Epistolary Pleasures: Documents In the Lives of Leia Organa & Han Solo
by ladypeter
Summary: A series of love letters and the start of a new adventure for Leia and Han.
1. Chapter 1

_…These documents relate to the Alliance's mission to the Antiochus system, less than a year after the battle of Endor. At that time, Antiochus remained a mystery to the rest of the Galaxy. Through these messages, we learn how Organa and Solo came to learn the truth about Antiochus. At the same time, we see them experiencing their still-new relationship and navigating everything it means to them and to the new Alliance of Free Planets._

-From Private Hearts, Public Loves: Documents in the Lives of Leia Organa and Han Solo.

 **Record of Briefing by Admiral Gial Ackbar, as delivered to the Provisional Council**

The Commander of the Second Fleet has received a request for assistance from the Antiochus system. Every 75 years there's a mass migration between the two inhabited worlds, Antiochus Prime and Antiochus-Rorus. The locals call it "the Great Turn." It's the only time the populations of the two planets are allowed to mix. This is a volatile time, and the system's Controlling Body has requested a detachment to assist in peacekeeping and logistics during the event, which lasts about a standard month.

The Fleet Commander requests both Naval and Marine forces, as well as one ranking diplomat and support staff. We've also recommended the addition of an Intelligence officer, in hopes he or she will go unnoticed among the rest. The reason: the Antiochus system has remained a mystery for generations. Though its location is strategic, and its main export apparently profitable, for hundreds of years they have avoided the Empire, the Republic, or any body seeking to gain control in the sector. We'd like to find out how this has come about. The fleet is desired to depart within four standard days.

 **Messages between Han Solo, aboard the Alliance ship Liberty, and Leia Organa, aboard the Alliance ship Home 1.**

 **Han Solo to Leia Organa (HS - LO)**

We just dropped out of hyper long enough to re-calibrate the drives and send out a data packet. I hope those private encryptions you set up work, Sweetheart. I don't think I slept more than two hours last night. So I guess this is just to say that I can't stop thinking about you.

 **Leia Organa to Han Solo (LO - HS)**

I can't think of anything but you, either. I haven't slept either since you left. I wish I was with you. Let me test out those encryptions...

 **LO to HS** _(this and all subsequent messages sent under first-level encryption)_

My love-

I miss you so much, even if it's only been four days. I just looked at the star charts to see where you must be by now-so far away, and so much further to go. I wish now that we'd handled things differently when this mission came up. I was so concerned about my professional integrity, and I so wanted to come with you, that I talked myself out of pushing the issue with the council. As soon as your shuttle left the bay on H1, I realized it had been a mistake.

When the war was more fierce, we never would have worried about these things. I would have fought to go because I know I'm the best for the job, not because I knew my heart would fly away with you on that shuttle. The mistake was mine, and yours too-I could tell you wanted to argue as much as I did, and I'll bet you decided not to for the same reason I did: because you didn't want anyone to think that we were making decisions based on our feelings. But I've come to my senses now and I remember-my heart and my brain know how to work together, if only I trust them.

I think a lot about the argument we had just before you left. I've come around a little, but not in the way you might think (no, you won't be hearing the sweet music of me saying you were right). No, I still think you were wrong in particulars: no one wants to get me out of the way for their own political ends. I don't think as you suggested that I have enemies on the Provisional Council-as such. This isn't the Couruscant underworld or even the Hutts' little dominion. I know you worry, and I love that about you, but I really don't think anyone is out to "get me" literally. On the other hand, paranoia can be fatal (in a figurative sense!) in the game of politics, and it would be a mistake to submit to it.

What I think is going on is this: Dodonna and Krilt too many opinions about what role I should be playing in the Alliance. It's that same old fight that's been playing out since Yavin: am I the "Heart of the Rebellion" or an actual diplomat? Am I an inspiration to the troops or one of them? just like always, Dodonna and Krilt wish I'd be a good girl and do the soft, nurturing jobs like tending to refugees.

That alone angers me enormously, but on top of that, I'm beginning to see that it's not just benign paternalism when they push me to hang back from missions and keep the homefires burning: there could be a distinct advantage for them in sidelining me. Now that we're beginning to do the serious work of forming a republic, there's been some tension on the Council. Just after you left there was a big argument in the Council over what we'd require of member systems in the way of sentient rights. It always seems so simple, but once you start asking questions, there are more and more. The line between ensuring rights and constricting them always seems to be shifting. There's no easy answer, and I was surprised to hear casually some council members threw out the rights of individual citizens.

I wish things get simpler for once instead of always getting more complicated. This isn't what I dreamed of when I imagined and end to this conflict. We're not founding some new shining beacon of peace and justice and hope-we're just continuing on like our forebears did: stumbling through the dark with nothing more than an overconfidence in our ability to decide what's best for everybody. I guess you can tell I'm feeling disillusioned. Do you have any advice for me? Stars, I've written too much already...

I love you more than anything, Han. I'm thinking of you always.

 **HS to LO**

Hi sweetheart. Thanks for setting up this channel: I almost felt like I could hear your voice when I read your message. Don't worry about writing too much: I did manage to learn how to read somewhere along the way.

You might be right, maybe I would have fought harder to get you assigned to this mission, if I hadn't been sure that someone would tell me that I was thinking with my dick, or that I'd gone soft, or that I'm pussy blind. And you're right too that there was a time when I wouldn't have cared what anyone said.

You're asking my advice? Things must be real bad for that to happen. This whole idea of forming some kind of legit government seems to be sending everyone out of their heads. Call it what you will, but I call it a power grab. And there most certainly are people who would like very much to get their hands on some of yours. But you're right that it isn't some fist fight to decide who gets to take home the gruunder, this is...politics. Cleaner and dirtier at the same time, right? The people who are working against you here are your friends, not your enemies. And hey, come to think of it, the guys fighting you for the gruunder are your friends too. And with friends like that, who needs enemies?

I hate hearing you get down about all this junk. I'd say it isn't worth it, but then I remember that actually it is. Here's the thing: you aren't like anyone I've ever known-you actually make the world a better place. If I got to pick who ran the Galaxy, I'd pick you in a second. And it's because you're not dealing with all this bullshit for your own sake. You're doing it because you know things can be better. That's always blown me away. You make this world better, Leia, and we're both going to make sure you're in a position to keep doing it.

Please forget that I wrote any of that. Also, can you tell I miss you? I'm missing how you smell tonight. There's this way you smell when you come to bed sometimes-like soap and sex together. How do you smell like that? I could live on that smell...

 **LO HS**

No, Han, I won't forget that you wrote that-ever. I'll keep those words with me, because they make all the difference in the world. And of course I'm asking your advice. Haven't you noticed that I do actually listen whenever you bother to say something of merit? You can only pretend to be an oaf for so long before people begin to notice you have a brain.

What's the difference between an enemy and a friend who's working against you? Not much, sometimes. But an enemy, you know you have to stop cold, by violence if it's necessary. If it's a friend, you should be able to prevail through persuasion, or flat honesty, or manipulation, depending on the person and your ethics.

Your language is getting very colorful there, Slick. What in the world does pussy blind mean? And what, dare I ask, is a gruunder? I'll be pondering that in the surface I need to catch. But before I forget, I know now, Captain, that you haven't unpacked your things and stowed them in regulation order. You're lucky that your quarters are exempt from inspection. I know you can't have unpacked because otherwise you wouldn't have written so longingly about that fragrance. Go unpack, and then massage me back.

 **HS LO**

A Fine Evening to You, your Most Exalted Highness. I just spent five hours in that damn planning session for Antiochus: there were at least three times I wanted to bang my head against the table. This thing is going to be a mess, Princess, and it's got me worried. We've got the naval crew of 300 and their XO Rav'mo, Burnsse and his 75 Marines, our "diplomat" Rhaltiir and his staff of six, and me with the tactical/intelligence team of 12. Get everyone over the rank of corporal in one room together and they're all just walking around bumping into each other like rats in a maze, only I think the rats would do better.

It was so much easier to get through, though, thinking of the little surprise you left in my bag. Princess, you're sly. How did you manage to get your little shirt underneath all of my underwear? And how did you get it to smell like that? You've outdone yourself, Leia, you really have.

Pussy blind is when you're so into a pussy that you can't see straight, and I'm glad you don't know what a gruunter is. You shouldn't.

 **LO - HS**

Why thank you, darling-really it was nothing. Before you left I suddenly thought to send a little piece of myself off with you. So I picked one of my camisoles (that's what they're called, by the way) that I think you like. I wore it for a few days, then put on a touch of my favorite fragrance, that I wear sometimes to bed or to make love. Then I hid it, and yes, I'm very pleased with myself, thank you. By the way, don't bother looking for your dark grey undershirt-it didn't make it off H1.

It hurts so much to be apart, but these messages make me feel so much more connected to you. Please, let's keep it up. When I read your messages, I can hear your voice in my head. It's a far cry from having you beside me, but it's the best substitute there is.

Your planning session sounds like fun: I'm awfully sorry I couldn't be there to share it with you. If it makes you feel better, the Caucus for a Statement of Rights is dead in the water. It's all down to how much we can demand of local sovereignties and what we're willing to leave in their hands. It is one very tangled ball of twine, and the Council is functioning so differently now. I suppose I got so used to the way things were during the fighting, and now with the new members and a new mandate, it feels like it's a whole new thing to get used to. And, too, I feel so hemmed in and resentful by the way I let myself get turned away from this Antiochus mission. Everything's just an awful muddle.

Turning to more pleasant things, I have a very important question about pussy blindness: is your definition literal or figurative? And please don't tease me about that gruunder thing: I can always just find out on my own.

I'll smile falling asleep tonight, imagining you holding my litte envoy close. You are planning to sleep with it, right? Must go. I love you-so very much.

END CHAPTER 1

 **NOTES**

Hello readers! This is the long-delayed follow-up to Unhappy Reunion and Predictably Unpredictable. I've been working on it for over a year now, and I've been torturing myself with it. This chapter isn't utterly, perfectly perfect, but it's going to have to go out as is. Thanks, a million times over, to Fetts and AnnaFan, for reading more versions of this than I care to remember. A side-note: Unstable solutions is definitely still on-it's just easier to write and hasn't been waiting in the wings a tenth as long as this has, so it's on the back burner for a little bit. Happy reading! There's a lot of great fic out there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rinam's Galactic Almanac**

 **ENTRY: ANTIOCHUS SYSTEM**

Not enough information is available for a full entry. The established facts are:

Antiochus consists of two planets inhabited by humans and one gas giant.

The system is governed by a self-selecting five member Controlling Body.

The human population of the system completely eschew dualistic bondings, making group marriage the hallmark of their culture.

The system's entire economy relies on the mining of mineral compounds from its only gas giant, which are used in the galactic leisure industry for various spa and health treatments.

 **HS to LO**

'Morning, Princess. I thought I'd send along this old almanac entry on Antiochus one of the aides dug up. There isn't much there but it's better than nothing, which is what we've been working with.

I'm sick to death of all the bureaucratic bullshit on this mission. No one else seems worried that we know nothing about these people, and when I'm the person who's worried that we haven't done our homework, that's when you know we're in trouble. I've read that damn almanac entry dozens of times, like if I read it again it will say something new. It doesn't make sense: how can two planets' economy rely completely on one export? And what does it mean about group marriage? There are a hundred kinds of polygamy-why is it so important in this system that it's the "hallmark of their culture?" Today I caught myself actually wishing that Threepio was around to give one of his fussy little reports on this place.

I haven't stopped wishing you were here, because if you were, I'd lay it all at your feet over dinner, get your advice it, and then forget all about it inside you. I got used to that. I miss it. And I miss talking about nothing at all when it's really late and we're half asleep.

Last night in bed I remembered these people I used to know: Til and Mags. If you'd been here I would have told you all about them. When I was 20 I thought they were ancient, but I bet they weren't older than 60. They had this refitted pleasure cruiser that they used for all kinds of odd jobs, and we used to run into them a few times a year.

They were that kind that collects people: usually helpless strays. One time they took on a girl and her baby for a while. We saw them at least three times that year, and seeing that girl drove me crazy because I so wanted to bang her, but her kid was always on her hip and that just put the scare in me.

You know what's funny? Till and Mags might be the only married couple I ever really knew. They were always nice to be around, kind of comforting. That's why it blows so much that things ended for them like they did. They took in another stray, a girl so young she looked like she wasn't even red yet. They felt sorry for her because she got a bad rap on some rim world and served time in a nasty juvenile facility. But they really shouldn't have felt bad, because she ended up hooking up with some creeps, stealing Till and Mag's ship, and stranding them on Nilaro just before the Imperial occupation. I always wondered what happened to them since, but I wasn't crazy enough to touch down on an occupied world on the off chance that they'd be alive and able to get off-planet.

Sorry to go on. If I really was telling you about this in bed, You'd have fallen asleep by now. I should sleep, I guess. I'm thinking about you all the time. Sometimes I wonder what we're doing all this for, anyway. I could just chuck it and be your personal pilot again.

Don't listen to me, it's late and I'm tired.

By the way: pussy blind is meant to be figurative. But you can interpret it however you want as far as I'm concerned.

I love you.

 **LO to HS**

My love- Thank you for your wonderful message. It feels like, at least for a few minutes a day, I'm with you. I can almost feel the rumble of your voice as I read. Maybe we can't get lost in each other at such a distance, but you can still lay your worries at my feet. I can be your political consultant, just as you've always been my pilot. Go ahead and tell me more about your Antiochus mess-maybe I can still help from afar.

Last night I had such a dream-that you were with me here on H1. You were touching me in the most incredible way, so slow and light. Your fingers were stroking my arms and stomach and the side of my breast. The feeling was so real that even in a dream I could tell the difference between the pads of your fingers and the tips. And my sense of it was was so completely you: playful, but burning underneath. It was dark and I kept looking for your face and not seeing you, but I knew just what you would look like, just the smile you'd have. I kept looking for you, and that's what woke me up. Then I was mad at you for hiding from me and waking me from such a good dream. But when I put my own hands on my body, it was still so vivid, the way you'd been stroking me, and then I felt how wet I'd become in my sleep. And by the time I fell asleep again I wasn't so mad at you any more.

I miss lying together and talking late at night, too. I loved your story of Til and Mags. I have to admit that it provides an awfully tempting vision: bringing your home with you across the galaxy, making your living wherever it comes, having total freedom but also being the hub of your own little community. I guess I'm romanticizing it, aren't I? Their sad end puts the point on that. It's just that sometimes the urge to run away is so strong. Promise me that if we ever can, we'll take our turn as the wandering old lovers? It could get me through a lot of hard years to think we had that waiting for us.

Life here is much as ever, though it feels so empty without you. Luke just returned from the scouting mission on Y IV, and he was sorry to have missed you. He said to tell you that he wishes you'd been here to cut him off the other night when the Rogues welcomed him back. I don't know why he doesn't message you himself, but perhaps it has something to do with masculine reticence. (Although the thought of either of you showing reticence, masculine or otherwise, just seems too far fetched to me.)

The Council is beginning to make forward progress, after what felt like an eternity of dithering. May the Stars bless Mon Mothma, and Doman Berus. Among the three of us we may just have gained consensus on a balance between individual rights, governmental power, and commerce. With a true mandate, now we can really begin to build.

Gods, it felt so good to actually gain ground after spending so long going back and forth. I've been trying to be patient with Dodona and Geragus' nonsense, but things are coming into focus again. The thing is, patience really isn't my forte, and I tried for so much of my life to become the woman my father and aunts wanted me to be. I've tried so hard to honor my father's memory and follow his example, and he always, always told me that impatience and temper would be my undoing. But...when I think of the times I've been most effective, those have been times when my impatience has worked for me, not against me. My father was a great man, but there were a lot of ways we differed. Perhaps it's taken this long to see myself with my own eyes, and realize that, with a rare exception, my impatience is my strength, not my weakness.

In their minds, Geragus and Dodona's strategy of pushing me into some humanitarian "Heart of the Rebellion" role is a very subtle one. But of course it's quite obvious, and I'm through letting them get away with it. I don't want to go off completely (I'll leave that strategy to you, my dear), but I've promised myself to listen to my instinct, then speak my mind. It's a testament to how strange these times are that I ever lost sight of it.

Oh, and appropriately, here's an interesting surprise. Chewie told me he's been thinking of taking on a bigger role in the Alliance, since keeping you alive isn't quite as challenging as it once was. He says he's mentioned this to you? I'm honestly not sure what you'd think of the idea. What's even more interesting is that he's thinking of doing: refugee work. Which makes me wonder if he'd be interested in taking over my role on the refugee committee. We're going to discuss it more, but honestly, who can you think of who would be better for the role? Much better than I, to be sure.

And by the way, I called your bluff and easily found out what a gruunter is. "A ceremonial cup used in bars on Ponteen. Bragging rights are conferred on whoever has possession of the cup at the end of a night of revelry." Honestly, if I tried, Han, I couldn't think up a less interesting explanation. It was a nice bluff, but you'll have to pull out something more shocking than that to scandalize me with tales of your party days.

I love you, and I miss your fingertips most of all tonight.

 **HS LO**

Hi Sweetheart. Sat through a briefing today that had me fantasizing about the Seven Hells. Six of them would have been better than this. And now I have the grandfather of all headaches. Am I getting old, or am I getting headaches because this is the first time I've actually needed to sit through meetings? The med techs would say it's a result of the freeze, but I'd rather not think about that.

It's good you're embracing your true strengths. I could have told you plenty of times that your temper was an asset, but I don't think it would have had the same impact coming from me.

Okay, so a gruunter isn't anything shocking. But you should see what can be inside one of those things when the night is over. And I knew this guy once, Solbarit, who only had one ear. He lost the other six in a gruunter fight. Pretty dangerous stuff right? At least, when I was 21 it felt like it.

I'd tell you more about Antiochus, but I can't. No one's been able to find any more information beyond what was in that first briefing and the almanac entry. All we know is we're supposed to aid them in keeping the peace during this "great turn." Thing is, nobody knows exactly what that is. It looks like it has to do with the positioning of the two populated planets relative to the gas giant, but more than that, nobody can fathom. And if we don't know who we're meeting, and we don't know what we're supposed to be doing, then what the hell does any of this accomplish? We sat there for five hours and talked it to death. We talked around it, under it, through it, I don't even want to think how far up the ass of this mission we got without knowing anything.

I guess it's my turn to ask for help-could you do a little more searching of the data banks for me, maybe even ask the Awful Golden One to give it a try? He is kind of good sometimes at convincing strange computers to give him the goods. I guess his kind of charm works on databanks or something.

Yeah, Chewie did say something about wanting to work on something new for a while. Honestly, it's a relief. It's long since time for him to get a break from this whole life debt thing.

The next time you have a dream like that, have your dream self tell my dream self that I'm jealous. Even if it's not in the flesh, he gets to touch you.

Take care. Don't go stepping into an airlock because you're dreaming about me, OK?

 **LO HS**

I'm surely not going to walk into an open airlock because I can't stop thinking about you. Not because I can't stop thinking of you, though: that part is true. I'm just a very careful person. But I do find myself thinking of you at the oddest times, sometimes just to comfort myself in the middle of a bad day. I didn't know that you'd become my refuge, but you have.

I'm so sorry about your headache. Let's chalk it up to the agony of a meeting that goes nowhere. As a girl I received extensive training in order to withstand these meetings without either falling asleep or flying into an apoplectic rage, so the fact that you avoided either of those things speaks to me of your enormous strength and resolve. A headache is the natural effect of exercising such strength of mind. Just to make sure, though, why don't you check in at the med bay and get a neural scan? It couldn't hurt, could it?

In the meantime, here's my personal prescription for you: Turn down the light, undress, lie down and close your eyes, and breathe for a minute or two. Then put your left hand on your stomach and your right hand below it. Slowly move your right hand down, and do what makes you feel good. Then imagine that I'm standing at the foot of the bed, watching you.

Now keep going.

Because I confess, I'm curious. I'd like to see what you do when you touch yourself. My impression was always that men pleasured themselves in a very businesslike, rough way: just getting the job done. But that's not how you touch me, and it's not how you like me to touch you. So, do you touch yourself the way I do? Do your hands feel different than mine? Or do you imagine my mouth? Are you ever tender with yourself, or slow, the way we are sometimes? What do you think about? And-could I see it someday?

 **HS LO**

Honey-

I'm blown away. You're amazing. I'm in shock, but I know that's dumb, because at the same time-of course. Of course you'd write that. How could I not have known that? I know your guts, I know how sexy you are under your shell. So of course. This is the woman I'd figured for a virgin until we had sex: then I wasn't so sure.

Second, you're incredible, and it made me laugh out loud to be reminded. That is, after I jerked off like a madman. I finished reading your message and realized my hand was already in my pants. I'm lucky I read it in my quarters, because I don't think being in public would have stopped me from doing that.

To answer your question, though: for the first several years of my extensive career in masturbation, I had about as much finesse as you'd imagine-I definitely fell into the category of rough and quick. And honestly, I might not have been too different with the girls who were generous enough to wind up in bed with me. I owe a lot to a girl who took pity on me when I was about 19. After taking way too much pleasure in telling me everything I was doing wrong, she announced that she was going to show me the light. She showed me how to get her off seven different ways, and she showed me how she could get me off in a few ways I hadn't even heard of yet. She was a damn revelation.

Now, when I was a kid, I went through this phase of following pilots around, watching everything they did and learning everything I could without being allowed to touch the controls and before I got kicked out. And after this girl, I kind of did the same thing with sex. I got good at finding girls who weren't just hot, but who had that stance that said they had something to show me. And I'd hang around until I got kicked out, learning stuff. And one of the first things I learned was to avoid the death grip, because not only is it not all that much fun, it can make it harder to get off from any more refined approaches.

So usually I go for a relatively even handed approach. It's not like the way you touch me, first of all because your hands feel so different than mine. I guess the way I touch myself is its own thing. And the idea of you seeing that is something I hadn't thought of. I mean, I've thought of it the other way around once or twice, ironically usually while jerking off. But you wanting to watch me? That's new. That's a little scary. Just a little. And not a little hot. Definitely something to think over long and hard.

In fact, I'm going to sign off now, sweetheart. Some urgent business has just come up.

Never stop surprising me.

 **LO HS**

My love-

I'm so glad that my message gave you pleasure. It makes me feel closer to you. Isn't it funny: I was more flustered reading your message than I was writing mine. Love letters like that aren't so unusual in Alderaanian culture, though they're certainly private. So I'm almost sorry to say that I didn't break any taboos in writing to you like that.

It's funny, though, to hear you call me a virgin. I forget sometimes the differences in our cultures. I don't think I ever thought of myself as a virgin, or as no longer a virgin. When I was growing up, perhaps we'd joke that someone was "untested in battle," but it wasn't as if you were one thing before you had intercourse and another thing after. What was more important in most cases was who it was. If things were different, I might tell people over drinks that you were my first. Sometimes that was significant, but really only if you wanted it to be. I think in some ways it might bond me more closely to you, but it's so unequal. If anything, I might wish that I'd had more experience before you, since I don't plan on doing so now. And honestly, that sounds like heaven to me. It feels as if there's always something new for us to learn about each other. For instance, that you're not completely comfortable with me watching you. You're usually such a brazen sort that I'm even more intrigued with the idea now.

I wonder, though: does it matter to you that you were my first? That I was a virgin the first time we made love?

 **LO HS**

I'm writing separately to discuss Antiochus. After having read over the briefing and the almanac entry again and consulted with 3PO, it's clear that the briefing you received was woefully inadequate. I'm looking into rectifying that.

I've been wondering about something since you left: why the rift between the two cultures? It seems important to know more about that situation before your team stepped in. So I stayed up much too late last night with 3PO searching for sources that our first research team might have missed. He finally found an account written only 250 years ago by a traveler from Chandrilla. It didn't come up on most searches because the indexing was all wrong. The almanac just said that the whole system practices polygamy, but there's so much more to it than that. It isn't true that polygamy is polygamy is polygamy: these two worlds have very different conceptions of marriage. So different, in fact, that they consider their cultures diametrically opposed. I'll send the document along as soon as 3PO can scrape all the old encryptions off it.

I love you. Today I'm not even missing your fingers or the rest of your marvelous self. I just miss being able to talk to you. Be well, and look out for airlocks yourself.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello readers! Author's note at the bottom.

To Recap:

 _"I stayed up much too late last night with 3PO searching for sources [on Antiochus] that our first research team might have missed. He finally found an account written only 250 years ago by a traveler from Chandrilla...These two worlds have very different conceptions of marriage. So different, in fact, that they consider their cultures diametrically opposed."_

THIS ENTERED INTO THE RECORD OF THE GALACTIC REPUBLIC SENATE. A STATEMENT: THE SWORN TESTIMONY OF LANTIPHONE GRIGGS, SUBMITTED TO THE COMMITTEE ON INDUSTRIAL SAFETY IN THE LEISURE INDUSTRY.

My name is Lantiphone Griggs. My company, Galactic Escapes, owns over 2,000 resorts and spas in the core and mid rim. Twelve years ago [221 BBY] my work took me to the Antiochus System. The Antiochan Commanding Body almost never allows offworlders access to the system, including Bounty Station, where they process the mineral components sold to my industry. They tried to dissuade me from visiting, but I made it clear to Chief Controller Linmark that if I was unable to personally view their operation, they would lose the patronage of Galactic Escapes entirely. And so, I was very grudgingly allowed to visit Bounty Station for 72 hours.

During my short visit I wasn't exposed to much Antiochan society, but the few things I did observe were of sufficient interest that I feel they may be of value to the committee:

Several times, I heard individuals mention either a mountain or a circle. Sometimes both would be named together, for instance, "well, it's either the mountain or the circle, and there's no common ground between them." Or, "that's the way it's always been-the mountain and the circle, bickering for eternity."

I began to notice two symbols worked into the decor of the station and the dress of the people: either a caret mark, like a triangle with no bottom, or a simple circle. Once I happened to notice that each symbol was associated with a planet's people, it fell into place: these were the graphical representations of the mountain and the circle, of course. The Mountain belongs to Antiochus Prime, and the Circle to Antiochus Rorus. I was intrigued by this symbology and I sought to learn more from my guides, but they were remarkably stubborn in their refusal to even acknowledge that there was anything to notice. It made me even more curious as to why these symbols identify each people, and what it truly means. Eventually I managed to corner a member of housekeeping staff-they're all Circles-when I came upon her cleaning my bathroom. She told me only that it has to do with "shared marriage" (their polite term in Basic for polygamy), and some essential difference between "the peak and the circle." To speak of it to an outsider seemed to cause her distress, although I can't imagine why, and that vague allusion to the Mountain and the Circle was all I could get out of her.

Despite this apparent fracture in the culture, the workers I saw, be they Mountains or Circles, were healthy, clean, and well-dressed. Almost the entire population is human, and I saw no need for concern over sentient rights. I saw a clean and efficient operation. Despite some tensions between the two peoples, everything I saw was on the level.

As uncomfortable as each people is in the other's presence, and as reluctant to discuss their customs, they deal fairly and openly with clients. This place is surely strange, but I saw no economic, or ethical reason to suspend use of their popular spa additives.

LO HS

Han-

Here's the document I promised you. As inscrutable as it is intriguing, I'd say, or maybe it was 3PO who said that last night: I'm a little foggy. In any case, I'll hold off on any comments until you've had a chance to read it, except to say that I feel a pang across all these years for that unfortunate Circle accosted by Griggs in his bathroom. Please feel free to share this with the rest of your team. Maybe just imply that you found it yourself. Perhaps during another lonely, sleepless night spend pining for me?

All love.

HS LO

Well that's weird. I guess you (but hopefully 3PO) hit the nail on the head with inscrutable. I guess it stands to reason that there're a million different ways to be married to a bunch of people. So it turns out that these people have two. But what are they? And why are they opposed? This thing just brings up more questions. I guess it's a warning to be prepared for anything-even more anything than we'd thought.

I'll share this with everyone for sure. But I'll make up my own cover story, thank you very much. It's already obvious to everyone that I'm sick with missing you, I don't need to add any fuel to that fire.

Speaking of which, you've had me thinking about our first time. Does it matter to me that I took your virginity? I have a feeling there's a right answer and a wrong one, and I don't know if I'll give you the one you want. You probably want me to say, "oh no, it's never even occurred to me that you were a virgin our first time. Oh no, it doesn't matter to me at all that I'm the only man who's ever been inside you." But I couldn't say that without lying.

I can say truthfully that I wasn't proud of being your first. And I didn't think much about it, or not too much. That night I could tell you were a little nervous, but you were amazing-no innocent flower, but not jaded either. What I love most about you in bed is how close to the surface everything gets: everything you're feeling and thinking, is as plain as the nose on your face. After years of trying to figure you out, it was amazing to see everything in you laid out in front of me. I might get off-just a little!-on knowing I'm the only man you've had, but it's so much hotter to know that I'm the only one who sees every bit of you, inside and out.

Here's one thing I remember about that first night: I had my fingers inside you, and you were wringing them like hell, just starting down the far side of coming, and I started to ease off, and I'll never forget what you did. You grabbed my wrist and you said "don't stop." So I didn't, and that ride just kept going, until I stared at you and couldn't believe how you took and took your pleasure. That was only about the 50th time I knew you were something else.

LO HS

You've left me breathless, but first things first. "Be prepared" is right: but for what? What does this new information really afford you? It's likely the cultural differences between us and the Antiochans will complicate negotiation, but it's not a given. Perhaps the differences between those two worlds will cause even more problems when they're forced to deal with a new influence from outside.

As for the rest of your message, I- well I can't write it in the same message. Hold, please.

LO HS

Oh Love,

Thank you for that wonderful message. You can make me shiver from systems away. I think about you so much, too much, probably. Sometimes I even get tired of you, but not of you-of the thought of you. My mind keeps returning to memories of you as if to comfort itself, until they get worn and soft like a favorite blanket. Then I need to give it a rest, because I want thoughts of you to always be as sharp and vivid as you are.

Today my mind has supplied me with a good one (Aside from thoughts of Those long clever fingers of yours). Today I've been thinking about your right shoulder. Not to distraction, but every time I pause to stretch or rest my eyes, or I'm walking down a long passage, I see your right shoulder, bare, just at eye level. If there's no-one around, I might even imagine that I'm on my back, and there's nothing else in the world but you and your delicious shoulder. Your delicious shoulder-I say that because the next thing I imagine is tasting it. You know how I love to do that just before my climax-or yours. You say you remember me saying "don't stop:" well, I'll always remember the time you first asked-"bite me." The surge I feel in you when I use my teeth is so powerful and so helpless at once: how wonderful to feel that wave break over me. I'm so eager to feel it again.

Tonight, Han, I feel so strange. I miss you so much, but I don't feel sad, I feel joyful. To feel this longing, knowing you're there to fulfill it, makes me profoundly grateful. I've gone for years without believing in the Blessing of the Stars, but I admit to standing at a viewport tonight and staring out and offering my thanks like I haven't in a very long time.

Please forgive the sentiment: I'm going to send this before I think better of it.

189919331967199718991930196719971899193019671997

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Like Leia, I'm going to post before I think better of it. A new chapter is so overdue that I can't bear to keep working on this any longer. This is only half the chapter I'd intended to post, and it's not beta'd, but what the hell?

Thanks to followers for staying tuned in: since my last post I sort of threw my husband out of the house. So yeah, romantic stories weren't quite doing it for me for a while there.

Finally, thanks to the immortal Prince for inspiring Leia's words about the joy in missing someone. From Pink Cashmere: "When I think about/how much I miss you/I want to jump for joy and thank Him/I'm not alone."


End file.
